


hot and fast and angry (i walk my days on a wire)

by Petr1chor



Series: take me to the barricade [9]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hurt Enjolras, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining Enjolras, Pre-Relationship, Sad Enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:40:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29116908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petr1chor/pseuds/Petr1chor
Summary: this is a follow up to my previous one shot, but it makes sense as a standaloneAfter getting hurt in a fight, Enjolras hasn't heard from Grantaire and begins to doubt if he cares for him. Courfeyrac makes things better (and also makes him pancakes)
Relationships: Courfeyrac & Enjolras (Les Misérables)
Series: take me to the barricade [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2049165
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	hot and fast and angry (i walk my days on a wire)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheFriendlyGay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFriendlyGay/gifts).



> Can you tell that I'm a sucker for pining Enj?

Enjolras groaned at the TV. It hadn’t done anything, but it wasn’t entertaining him either and that, in his opinion, was not an outlandish expectation to have of the television.

He checked his phone for the seventh time since he had sat down. The notification panel was still empty. He swallowed the thoughts that were climbing up his throat. It was disgustingly early. It would be surprising if someone was messaging him.

He contemplated getting up and getting himself some breakfast, but his entire body ached. He couldn’t pinpoint any pain anymore, it just felt like he was sore all over. He switched channels.

Courfeyrac looked like he’d spent the night vigorously rubbing his hair against a cat tree when he came into the room, arms stretched over his head.

“Hello, sunshine,” he said, and Enjolras felt the regular early morning murderousness flare up. He did not understand people who could just get out bed and be cheerful.

Courfeyrac squinted at him. “Have you eaten yet?”

Enjolras shook his head.

“Do you want any breakfast? Coffee?”

Enjolras was tempted, but his annoyance at not being able to get it himself won over. “No, I’m not hungry.”

“Oh come on,” Coufeyrac ruffled his hair playfully, and Enjolras jerked away, feeling the pain in his side flare, “I’ll even make those terrible banana pancakes you like.”

Enjolras pushed his hand away. “Quit fussing, Courf.”

“Nope,” Courfeyrac replied cheerily, while herding him off the couch with gentle hands and onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter.

Enjolras lay his head on the counter. The cool top of it felt soothing on the cut on his cheek and he pressed it there. He could hear the sounds of cabinets opening and closing, the clash of pots and pans being moved. He wanted to go back to sleep.

Coufeyrac placed a hot mug next to his head, and Enjolras raised his head slowly, taking the mug in one hand and pressing it to his sore face.

Courfeyrac was humming quietly, and to anyone who did not know him, he would have seemed distracted. Enjolras, however, stiffened in his seat. It was never a good thing when Courefyrac was being diplomatic.

“So,” he said finally, expertly flipping a pancake while he spoke over his shoulder, “Are you going to tell me why you’re being so crabby?”

Enjolras sipped his coffee. “I’m not being crabby.”

Courfeyrac sighed like a rich lady in a play, “Fine. Disgruntled, then.”

Enjolras let his head thunk onto the table, instantly regretting it when it sent a flash of pain through it.

“Enj,” Courfeyrac was closer now, and he was using that voice that made Enjolras admit his crush to him in eighth grade.

“Grantaire hasn’t spoken to me,” he relented, “Since before the hospital.”

Coufeyrac frowned. “It’s just been a day.”

“I know,” Enjolras felt a familiar frustration bubbling to the surface.

Coufeyrac set a plate of pancakes in front of him. “Hey,” he said, voice going soft, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Enjolras shook his head, grinding his teeth together. “I think- I think he’s mad at me.”

“Why would he be mad at you, Enj?”

Enjolras ran a hand through his hair. He was too sore to do a decent job tying it up in the morning, and the braid way almost entirely undone. There was an uncomfortable feeling in his throat.

“He keeps telling me I do stupid shit. That I run headfirst into situations without thinking about them. Maybe he thinks, I don’t know, that it was my fault for being dumb and getting into a fight with multiple large men when I was alone.”

Enjolras tucked his shaking hand under his thigh. He thought of how he saw Grantaire slipping out of the hospital room even before he was fully awake. He gnawed at the inside of his cheek.

“Or maybe,” his voice was very, very quiet, “He just…doesn’t care about me.”

Courfeyrac let out a surprised burst of laughter, stopping abruptly when he caught a glimpse at his face.

“ _Enjolras,_ ” he sounded incredulous, “You don’t actually think that do you?”

Enjolras was resolutely ignoring the lump in his throat. He got off the stool, busying himself with looking through the cabinets for the caramel sauce he very vividly remembered Cosette making for them.

“Enj,” Courfeyrac pressed.

“I- I don’t know, Courf! But it makes sense. I was such a dick to him for so long. Obviously he wouldn’t start seeing me as a friend with just a few week of halfway decent behavior.”

Courfeyrac didn’t say anything. He gripped the counter.

“And that’s okay. It isn’t his fault and I understand if he doesn’t care about me, it’s _okay-”_ Enjolras said, his voice breaking on the last word.

In a moment, Courfeyrac was right behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist, careful with his injuries. Enjolras pressed back against him, shutting his eyes. It was a familiar warmth.

“I just- I don’t want him to hate me anymore,” his voice was quiet.

“Sweetheart, he doesn’t hate you, I promise you that.”

Enjolras made a noise of dissent, but brought his hand up and threaded their fingers together. Courfeyrac placed a soft kiss between his shoulder blades

“Wanna know a secret?”

Enjolras hummed.

“R was inconsolable when we found out. He was so scared that you weren’t going to be okay. Joly had to talk him down from a panic attack. I promise you, Enj, he does care about you, he cares about you so much.”

Enjolras made a broken sound. “Then why won’t he _talk_ to me?”

“Have you considered,” Coufeyrac began, his voice cheerful, “Texting him yourself?”

Enjolras turned to look at him with the full effect of his affront and Courfeyrac laughed, letting go of him, and pinching his cheek.

“Oh my god you didn’t even text him before you started angsting?”

“That’s not a word,” Enjolras retorted.

Courfeyrac laughed. “Do you prefer brooding? Sulking? _Pining?”_

Enjolras cursed how pale he was when he felt his cheeks heat up instantly. “I’m _not_ pining.”

Courfeyrac touched the tip of his nose with one finger. “Sure you aren’t, Enjy.”

He turned around, walking towards his bedroom.

“Go text your boy.”

“He isn’t my boy,” Enjolras called after him, hotly.

Courfeyrac cackled merrily before slamming his bedroom door.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this :)
> 
> Kudos and comments are appreciated <3


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